The Harry Potter A to Z
by SmutSmutSmut
Summary: A collection of One-Shots from A - Z each beginning with a select word. Love/Hate/Lust/Betrayal/Angst/Laughter/Slash/Het/Smut. You name it, this collection has it! Marauder and Present Era. Various Pairings.
1. A is for Abyss

A is for Abyss

A is for Abyss

&

"My heart is as empty as the widest, darkest abyss without you here. Without your smiling face and not-so-funny jokes, there is nothing here for me…even as others say otherwise. I cannot simply move on, eat and sleep as if none of this was real…as much as I sometimes wish I could. I do not believe I can go on without you, but I will try…for Harry's sake."

The words were spoken slowly, each sentence ground out as if from a very deep, carefully protected well. As the last word was spoken, the man reached up with a shaky hand and wiped his eyes slowly and the grave began to reform in front of him, emerging into his blurred vision a simple, black slab of stone with even more simple words engraved into it.

Sirius Black  
1959-1996  
A long time friend, a lover, and a beloved Godfather.  
Free at last.

Smiling slightly despite himself, the man whispered "Free at last…just as you always should have been my love…" He wiped a last tear from his soft amber eye and turned away, walking the silent trek back to the house the two men once shared.

Grimmauld Place was once a dingy, depressing old house, but the two of them had made it habitable and charming. The portrait of Sirius' long dead mother that had hung in the entrance hall for so long exploded as he closed the door a bit too loudly behind him, screaming in rage. "FILTHY HALFBLOOD NON-HUMAN SCUM! BELITTLING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS, HOW DARE YOU?!" Rolling his eyes, the man walked on, long used to ignoring the never ending rants of the impossible portrait. Each room he passed was like a strike to the heart, another memory that he simply couldn't repress. It had been three years since Sirius had died, and the world was at peace again, but he still couldn't move on.

For the first few months after Sirius' death, Harry and his friends had tried to bring light back into their old professor's life again, offering words of hope and encouragement in an attempt to make him move on. However, after a few months of failed attempts, they too, began to drift away. Now that Voldemort was defeated, there was time to focus on their own lives, to move forward and have families. Harry had married Ginny, and Hermoine and Ron had married, as everyone knew they would. Remus was left alone in Grimmauld, forgotten and alone.

He continued on through the hall, moving upstairs and passing doors until he arrived at the room which had been his and Sirius'. Entering quietly, he moved through the room slowly, touching a picture frame here, a cherished hairbrush there, exploring each item carefully as if for the first time. Finally, he paused in front of the large oak dresser, picking up the single framed portrait sitting on its smooth surface. Staring into the grey eyes of his lost lover for the last time, he bit his lip softly and whispered, "I'm sorry Sirius…there's no one left…my pack is gone…he doesn't listen anymore…" Staring down at the picture apologetically, he kissed the cool glass softly before setting it down carefully and leaving the room, closing the door with a final snap.

He made his way down the stairs into the dungeon like basement below slowly, pausing to make sure the letters he had spent the last few nights composing were placed on the table where they would be found the next morning. Looking over the blood splattered walls, he scowled at the room in which he had spent the last three years' worth of full moons. He swallowed quietly before shedding his clothes and turning to stare out the window at the slowly rising full moon. "Tonight…you shall win you bright bastard…"

With his final farewell complete, he sank to his knees, staring at the blank wall in front of him, allowing his mind to clear. As the clock struck eleven, and the moon rose to its peak, Remus Lupin closed his eyes, giving himself over entirely into the pain of his last full moon.


	2. B is for Bra

B is for Bra

~*~

There was a bra on the floor. It was pink, and shiny and silky. Its round cups lay face up like small, unapproachable mountains amid whirls of strap and fabric. It was not a large bra, but it was also not abnormally small. The bra was average, almost nondescript. No one was quite sure why it was there, or whose it was even...but there it was, nonetheless. The bra was a source of curiosity for but a mere moment or two, the subject of a few lines of idle conversation between four abnormally curious young men, and then the short attention-spanned boys moved on. Well…most of them did anyways.

The bra bothered Remus. He wasn't quite sure why…but it did. The bra, he supposed, was evidence of the fact that of all of the marauders, he was the only one not getting laid. He had of course heard the stories of James and Sirius, heard countless tales of their inspiringly shameless escapades. He had even heard Peter's short, choppy stories of shy, awkward moments in broom cupboards. Yes. James and Sirius, and even Peter, were having sex. Indecent amounts of it (as even once was to be considered for Peter simply because he was well, Peter). And Remus Lupin was not.

He supposed it wasn't his friends fault. They were, after all, hormonal teenage boys. Sex was a natural desire of all young men (or so he had read), and it was hardly fair to blame those lucky enough to have it. The problem was…Sirius had a habit of having a lot more of it than Remus deemed a "natural amount of desire for a boy his age." It seemed at least three times a week that Sirius returned to the room the four boys shared, out of breath and eyes glowing with the remnants of lust and desire, his skin and hair shining and smelling of sweat and sex (Remus only knew this particular scent because it was much the same as the one that wafted through the room when Sirius' escapades were apparently not enough and he was forced to resort to his own hand). Each time he came to the room after one of these episodes, he looked and smelled the same. Always the smell, always the shining eyes, and worst of all, always the frustratingly stupid grin that refused to disappear for at least three hours. It was nauseating. Almost.

Perhaps if it had not been Sirius, Remus would not have minded. James, he could live with. James was well…James. The quidditch star, the lady's man, the golden boy of the professors, destined to be Head Boy if only he would get his head out of his arse, Peter would be tolerable, if only for the reason that it might keep him away and shut him up for a few days a week (not that that was going to happen. Remus could dream). But no…it was Sirius. Sirius the noble, arrogant, aristocratic god. The trouble making temptation that was the source of Remus' darkest and dirtiest of secrets (yes, even worse than _that_ one. It was that bad). You see…Remus Lupin was in love with Sirius Black. Remus Lupin, the professor's pet, the orderly young man who was found most commonly in the library and had a rather unusual affection for chocolate. The fact remained, however, that Sirius Black was quite obviously, in layman's terms, a whore. Remus Lupin was in love with a whore…and didn't realize it. Which brings us back to the bra.

Remus was quite sure by this point that this bra belonged to someone that Sirius had slept with. He was certain of this fact for a variety of reasons. First, James was currently smashingly, devastatingly, head of heals in love with Lily Evans. Which meant of course, that James was not currently having sex, as he refused to so much as imagine sex with anyone but his darling Lily during such phases. This of course led Remus to the conclusion that this bra was not the result of the work of a certain James Potter, who would at this point in time never have a hope of getting laid. The next reason was that Peter was currently residing in the hospital wing (it was an accident, really.) As Peter had been in the hospital wing for far longer than this particular bra had been on the floor, Remus was forced to conclude that there was no possible (or logical) way that he could have been responsible for it being there. No…this bra was indeed the result of the work of one Sirius Black. The whore.

"WHATCHA UP TO REMUS?!"

Remus shot a hand out to catch himself, turning his head slowly to stare at the eager, grinning face framed by dark curls that was inches from his own. He tilted his head slightly and raised his eyebrow gently.

"What does it look like I'm doing Sirius? I'm relaxing in the solitude-" At this, he shot the curly headed boy a look. "of this room. I was just considering opening a book…a thought that is slowly beginning to slip away now that you are here."

Sirius pouted and crossed his arms, jutting his bottom lip out in a way that Remus couldn't help but find adorable (no! He wasn't staring! Fine…maybe he was…). "Well sniff sniff snoot to you too Mr. I Read For Fun Because I'm Better Than Sirius Is. It looked to me like you were staring at that bra and thinking of doing something rather horrible to whoever was once inside it. Horrible…or dirty. Honestly mate, I can't tell the difference sometimes." He grinned innocently and shrugged a robed shoulder.

Rolling his eyes softly, Remus shook his head and marveled at the unusually accurate observations of his friend. He had indeed been thinking of what he would like to do (in a perfect world) to the dirty flower who had stolen his Sirius' virtue (even if she were only one among many, he imagined). "I wasn't staring at the bra Sirius…I, unlike you, are not fixated to the concept of sex and only that. I was merely contemplating my own…lack of redeeming attractive physical attributes…that have led to this unfortunately singular, sexless existence I am in."

Apparently Remus had said too much…it might have helped that his explanation of the murderous/lust-filled expression that Sirius had walked in was even more perplexing than the reasoning that Sirius had come up with. No matter the reason, Sirius was staring at him blankly. Remus shifted uncomfortably and licked his suddenly very dry lips.

"Lack…of…redeeming attractive physical attributes?" Sirius tilted his head to the side slowly, narrowing his gaze into one that made Remus feel suddenly very much like a horse on an auction block. "Are you trying to tell me that you think your unattractive? Or even…dare I say…ugly?"

"The evidence does point that way, yes. In case you have not noticed, even Peter has been found attractive or _something_ by someone…as he's told us more than once." Remus leveled a serious look at his friend and shrugged dismally.

"It is a dark day in hell when I admit that you are less attractive than _Peter_ Remus John Lupin." Sirius was staring at Remus darkly, his eyes narrowed more and his jaw set firmly. "I happen to think you're beautiful, as far beautiful as chaps can go. Problem is…you're simply too beautiful for the whorish broods around here."

Remus frowned deeply at this statement and shook his head. "And you're not? Your reasoning is horrible Sirius. If I were too beautiful for the girls here, then so are you. I mean… you're much better loo-"

"STOP." Sirius held up his hand and glared at Remus. "If you plan on listing reasons why I'm more beautiful than you are, simply shut up. Because I've heard about my looks too often…and it's boring. In case you haven't noticed in our six years living together, I don't exactly have the most focused attention span." Sirius grinned impishly for a moment before continuing on. "I happen to find you to be the most beautiful person I have ever had the opportunity to come across. And I will list the reasons why."

Remus wasn't prepared for what he heard. As Sirius listed his attributes (both physical and otherwise, much to his embarrassment), he found himself blushing a deeper and deeper hue of red. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Sirius paused and took a long breath before turning to stare at Remus fully.

"AND LASTLY! I like…the way you blush when I list what I like about you." Sirius' eyes traveled over Remus slowly, drinking in the blush that spread from the tips of his ears over his rosy cheeks. He opened his mouth again and said smartly, "And…I think I am going to kiss you now."

He did just that. Sirius reached up, grabbed Remus lightly by the back of the neck, and pulled his forward for his first, and most glorious kiss. It seemed to go on forever…Remus was filled with visions of rather cliché little rockets going off in his mind as the two boy's lips mingled, tongues darted out experimentally, tasting. Somewhere in between the beginning and the end, Remus' hands ended up resting on Sirius' broad back, holding him firmly and pulling him closer. Sirius' hand slid up into Remus tawny hair, tugging softly as his tongue twisted and wrestled with Remus' in an enticing dance. A few moments later (eternities in Remus' mind) the two boys came up gasping for breath. Their eyes locked…amber met soft steely grey. It was in this moment that Remus decided he was madly, irrevocably in love with Sirius Black.

The bra lay forgotten. The two boys were in their own world, staring into each other's eyes, their arms still around each other.

BANG!

Eyes widening, Remus sprang away from Sirius and blushed madly, looking up to stare at a bright eyed young witch with flaming red hair. Lily Evans flashed him a dazzling, politely embarrassed smile and bit her lip. "I…er…forgot something in here…I hope I didn't…interrupt anything?" Flushing delicately, she leaned down and scooped up the pink bra swiftly, tucking it into her robes in a flash and darting away.

~*~

AN: Dedicated to the one I love on our anniversary. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it 3


	3. C is For Candy

**C****is for Candy**

~&~

**Chocolate is the worlds aphrodisiac. Or so some people have claimed. To Fred and George, Candy was just another excuse to make money. It was already nearing the Christmas season and the twins were fresh out of Fever Fudge and Edible Dark Marks. Christmas was always their busiest holiday (aside from Halloween.) It might have been due to the fact that flyers littered the streets advertising their delicious delicacies. **

**Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Cuckoo Confections!**

**Tired of the same old Puking Pastilles and Canary Creams?**

**Of course you're not!**

**But why not try out the new and exciting Nosebleed Nougats and Ton-Tongue Toffees.**

**Guaranteed to wish anyone a "Merry Christmas."**

**_Not intended for personal use._**

**And now the devious brothers found their shop flooded with orders from all over the country. Shipments weren't coming in fast enough for the looming holiday and they found themselves working overtime, struggling to keep up with the buyers demands. **

**It was on Christmas Eve that Fred and George finally caught a break. The atmosphere in the Burrow was lively and full of whim. Decorations of bright green and red hung from the beams and Christmas crackers were going off in the hallway, causing Crookshanks to flee in terror. A bright flashing banner hung above the kitchen door that was bewitched to sing every time someone stepped through the arch. It was defiantly Christmas at the Burrow.**

**Dinner was full of its usual delights. Charlie, always fabricating his stories about Romania and dragons, Bill, telling his tall tales about Gringotts curse breaking. The two eldest Weasleys were seldom seen. It was a treasure to be a whole family again, or, as whole as they could get. Percy Weasley's place at the table remained empty, his stocking above the fireplace bare.**

**Of course, things weren't always calm and at ease in the Burrow. The tension was strong willed and could last the great flood. Molly Weasley was not so easily forgiving of Fred and George's business, but it was Christmas, and she had agreed to put away her bitter feelings for the sake of the family.**

**The snow lay heavy against the ground covering it with its gentle white blanket. The frost nipped at the windows, leaving tiny ice crystals in the corners like small reminders that winter was here to stay. Hot cocoa and empty hot chocolate mugs littered the living room; a mess left for Fred and George to clean up.**

**The rest of houses patrons had one by one filtered upstairs, worn out from the hustle and bustle of Christmas Eve. The house was quiet except for the ghoul upstairs screaming and howling out-of-tune Christmas carols. The fire continued to crackle and burn while the boys, drowsy from the rum they had slipped into the cocoa, staggered up towards their bedroom.**

**It wasn't unusual for them to be stealing sips of alcohol whenever they had the chance. They took ****careful precautions to make sure never to get drunk. The most they could manage was feeling slumberous and relaxed. Soft pitter patters of feet creeping by could faintly be heard as the house shook and rattled with the coming storm. The Burrow would be covered in snow by the time morning came. Two pairs of clumsy, unstable hands reached for the door at the same time. The twins stumbled in, dazed and slightly disoriented. It wasn't until they collapsed in one big heap on the bed that a soft, breathless sigh was heard.**

**"****It's my fault, isn't it?" His words, heavy with regret, echoed his own feelings. "I'm sorry George." His words were greeted with cold silence. Breaking their body contact, he turned so he was facing the window. They went through this every night. It was a silent ongoing argument between the two. George's eyes drifted lazily over the falling snow.**

**"****Do you think mums figured it out?" The eldest Weasley (by a few seconds) glanced down at his mirror image. "Mum can usually tell when something's up. Remember when Bill was seeing that Alistair woman? He 'forgot' to tell her, yet she knew somehow."**

**It was easy for Fred to see that George had put a lot of thought into this. It pained him to see his brother in such turmoil over something they were simply guessing at. A hand reached out to caress the freckly complexion. "Does it matter if she does? Would she not have said something if she did?" Sliding his hand under his brother's chin, he forced his gaze to stare at him. "If she knows, is that the end of this?**

**George stared longingly into his eyes, pools of his own reflection. "Could you really say no?" George shivered as his twins pale hand stroked his exposed skin. "George?" Suddenly his breath was cool against his ear sending electric jolts through his body. "George, I want to play tonight."**

**It was a declaration and his word was usually final. "What do you want to play? Exploding Snaps? Perhaps a game of Wizard's Chess?" The younger twin found himself pinned to the bed, his own eyes staring back at him. **

**"****Are we going to do this every time?" Fred's hands snaked around his brothers body, feeling the most intimate curves. "I know it's not Christmas yet,.." Leaning away from his brother, Fred reached behind the bed and pulled out a small box. "Merry Christmas."**

**Propping himself up, George stared at the brightly colored box. It was just small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. It was lavishly decorated with bright colors of orange and yellow with an extravagant red ribbon entwined around the entire package. Gentle hands wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly. "Go ahead, open it."**

**Leaning back into his brother, George began to tear away at the paper. The wrapper fell away to reveal a rich, brown box filled with different assorts of Chocolates. "From Norway," Fred explained. "I thought maybe we try them... together." There was a hint of secrecy in his voice outlined by a husky tone.**

**It was uncanny how they sometimes thought alike. "I suppose since it goes hand and hand," George said pulling another similar package from behind his back. "Muggle candy. Can you believe it Fred? Imagine the possibilities if we took ordinary candy like this and turned into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."**

**Fred loved his brother, he honestly did, but sometimes their minds were in totally different places, and ****more often than not, George was constantly thinking about the business. "Or the fun we could have," Fred told him, snatching his gift from his brothers hands.**

**The box as full of assorted candies of various colors. He could recognize the suckers and the bits of gum, but they still seemed a bit foreign. "How do you reckon it tastes?" Lifting his head, George stared at his twin curiously. A mischievous grin reflected his own and he could see Fred's eyes light up. He was two steps ahead of Fred as he reached down to wiggle out of his itchy Weasley Sweater. Laying back in the bed and watched his brothers frantic hand movements. In five seconds flat he was stripped of his own burgundy sweater and was tearing open the package of chocolates.**

**George parted his lips, eager and willing to accept the rich chocolate being presented. The taste was sweet and slightly bitter. It had a hazelnut undercoating and melted in George's mouth. He swirled his tongue over the chocolate while smirking. The look that brandished Fred's face was priceless; Lips parted, breathing rigid and shallow. It was hard to tell what he was enjoying more; the relentless teasing, or the subtle aroma of the chocolate.**

**They took turns feeding each other small bits of chocolate, playing a sort of guessing game with each. "It's mango," George would tell his brother. He was right every time.**

**When the box of chocolates lay bare, they slumped down next to each other, stomachs full. They had both noticed a new sort of emptiness had replaced the old one and once more Fred rolled over to face his brother. "Lay on your stomach Georgy."**

**The younger twin silently obeyed, rolling until his stomach was flush against the bed. George couldn't hear anything except for the slight sound of paper rustling. Fred's breath was hot against his twin's ear, "Whatever you do, don't move away from me." The voice sent shivers up his spine and caused his breath to hitch. Tentative licks assaulted George's body as Fred traveled down his freckled back. He stopped when he could feel George quivering beneath him. The older twin pulled away and replaced his tongue with a sticky, cherry lollypop. **

**A surprised yelp escaped through his lips, "F...Fred what the-" but before he could say another word the cherry lollypop was plunged inside of him. Neither one said a word until George began to squirm. "It's sticky." The lollypop felt weird and foreign inside of his body and the younger twin found himself rocking back, wanting to know how else it could make him feel.**

**After a while he got used to the feeling of lollypop and it was slowly pulled out of him only to press against his lips. Fred was watching him with gleaming eyes, forcing the sucker between his rosy lips. George was surprised at his twin for a number of reasons, but the first one being the fact he was travelling far out of their comfort zones. Willingly he parted his lips and accepted the cherry lollypop which had now taken on a new flavor.**

**For George, it wasn't enough. He rolled onto his back, pulling his twin down against him until their lips meshed together. Their mouths fit perfectly against one another and their tongues entwined, struggling for dominance; a battle which Fred always won.**

**They broke apart, breathing heavily and staring at each others flushed complexions. No words were said as Fred rolled George over onto his stomach once again and soundlessly slid up behind him. "Don't make a sound George.. Mum may be clueless but she isn't deaf."**

**The older twin pushed into his brother and a soft grunt was heard from below his body. It didn't take long for George to get used to his twin, and he found himself thrusting back with the rhythmic pumping into his body. Fred had to slide his hand over George's mouth to keep him from awaking the whole house. Their bodies mixed together, sweat dripping and hair sticking to their slick skin. The moonlit hit them both and caressed their bodies as Fred continued to fuck him. His pale, freckled hand stroked the younger twin's body as it tightened and relaxed as each wave of orgasm washed over him and then faded. He was close, both of them were, and then it was over.**

**George came first, calling out his brothers name, forgetting that they were not alone in the house. Fred followed after him, his moans strangled and lost in the fiery hair of his twin.**

**They lay there panting, bodies sticking together, just basking in the warmth of each other. Finally, Fred rolled away from George and lay beside him, his breathing returned to normal. George rolled into he was on his side facing his mirror image.**

**"****You know," said George, "chocolate is the worlds aphrodisiac."**


	4. D if for Death

**D is for Death**

&

Although I tried to fight it, sleep found me. I did not go peacefully, mind you, but it slowly began to drag me down until I was buried. All the coffee in the world wouldn't save me now.

I don't know how long I was under, but I awoke sweating and breathing heavily, as if I had been running in my sleep, hair plastered against my forehead, and vision blurred. I glance around nervously and struggle to recall where I am. The numbers on the clock glare angrily, reminding me that it is time to wake up. It is still early, the sun has barely risen. My mind feels as if it is drifting in a fog. All I know is that my dream has left me dehydrated and desperate for more of it.

The blood on my hands feels too real, the dark hue seemed to staining my fingers and I force myself to double check their cleanliness. They are clean of course. I lay back down, trying to grab the broken fragments of my nightmare that are slipping away. I can feel my heart threatening to break free; it tries to escape my ribcage, snapping every bone in the process. The thought of the pain is bearable. What bothers me most is that if my blood ceases to flow, these dreams go with it, washed away like the sands in the ocean. The very thought of losing something so distinct terrifies me.

They say within five minutes you forget fifty percent of your dream, within ten it's ninety percent. I am the type who forgets everything the moment I wake up. I can faintly recall a brief conversation or whether it was night or day, but I struggle with faces.. Except hers.

I spent my spare time researching dreams and I've come to the conclusion that we only dream of things we know. There are people we've seen in our dreams that we call strangers, but we know them in reality. How could we possibly dream of something of which we have no recollection of? So why is it that no matter how many photos I dig up, no matter how many faces I see on crowded streets: I can't find her?

You'd think if we only dreamt of things we know I'd be able to remember her. Her flowing red hair, fiery and tantalizing. I can see her so clearly, but most of all I can smell her. She smells like freshly brewed coffee and tangerines. Both bitter and sweet. There is something else mixed in with the two scents. Lilacs maybe? Whatever it is, I can't forget the smell of her. Every dream is the same; she teases me in a little yellow sundress, twirling so I can see glimpses of her panties. She knows how to drive me crazy. In the end, like the mist over a valley, she fades away and I'm left standing in that field with not another living soul.

Her ruby red blood spills over my hands as I clutch the knife and drive it deeper and deeper into her flesh. It smells of death and decay and I relish the scent, taking my time to breathe in deeply, filling my lungs. She thrashes in my arms and I tighten my grip on her, watching the skin bruise. I'm trembling in anticipation as her struggling continues. Her screams are muffled by the damp cloth held to her mouth and suddenly her body convulses and she goes limp. No, I was not with another living soul. She was clearly dead.

I instantly regret slipping from the comfort of my warm bed as my feet hit the cold hardwood floor. Winters in Chicago are the worst. I always told myself I'd never get stuck in a place like this, but I know everyone thinks that. We all think we won't be our parents, but we are. We think we'll give up eating fatty foods, but we never do. We take comfort in what we know.

Swirling around me, the cold air nips at my bare skin. I despise Christmas. Christmas is nothing but another corporate holiday telling us we _have _to go out and spend money on people we love; telling us we _have_ to decorate a Christmas tree for that party we are _required_ to throw. Perhaps I feel this way because every year it's the same: I'll end up getting drunk and coming home alone.

I stumble through the house, maneuvering around boxes and old dusty newspapers. I am constantly reminding myself to throw things away but I always hold onto them. I am a collector of sorts; A packrat to some degree. I collect everything that has to do with murder. I remember the news story my parents were discussing when I was seven. In a nearby town women would seduce men into following them and swiftly, like jaguars in the night, suffocate the men and take everything they had. At seven, I was fascinated by this gloriously gory horror story.

Leaning against the sink, I hold the dirty glass under the murky water and take a small sip. The water tastes like strong whiskey but looks like mud. Looking into the dusty mirror I try and smile but it comes out all crooked. I know I am wasting time now and I know eventually I'll be needed at work. Walking back into the living room, I clumsily tug on my uniform and rush from the house.

A few moments later, I find myself walking, hunched, down the same old street looking at the same old buildings and remembering the same old dream as before. I feel as if I have seen every face on this street, although I know no one here by name. I am nearing the curb when I see her and I nearly lose my balance. Her fiery red hair catches the wind, carrying with it an exciting new scent of lilacs, and I find myself changing course. Her scent is intoxicating and I can't help but forget everything else around me.

It's like the dream she frequently visits and I jog to catch her. The smell of lilacs and fresh brewed coffee fill my nostrils and I try to gain control.

"Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" I remain collected, my words flowing smoothly. She turns and gives me the once over. Her eyes are the color of evergreen trees and they shine brightly, catching glimpses of the suns rays.

"No, I don't think so." Her voice, which sounds like crystal bells, sends shivers up my spine. I smile at her timidly, flashing my rotting teeth. This is probably a mistake, because soon after she gives me a startled look before turning from me abruptly.

With no time to spare, I jump into action and slide my hand around her mouth. I have to have her to myself. I see her wide eyes out of the corner of my own as she struggles, kicking and clawing at my arms, trying to break free. I was never the athletic type, but all the same, I manage to drag her down the empty streets towards the daffodil fields. She continues to squirm and scratch at me. She is terrified, and I can see it in her eyes.

I set her down amongst the flowers, pinning her with my body. I can feel her smooth silky skin beneath my fingers as she continues to wail. Her once clear voice turns into whiny sobs and I can feel something inside of me breaking. This part was new to me. In my dream she was willing.

I slide my hand up her skirt, he thighs quiver in fear and a small prideful smirk finds its way onto my face. Her skin is ivory smooth and sensitive to my touch. I lean in close and smell her hair, allowing the scent to fill me. I rub my thumb along her panties, feeling her tremble against me and cry out. Her body suddenly thrashes violently in my arms and I lose my grip on her. She's trying to shift away from me and I can feel the all too familiar feeling of terror boiling inside of me.

I hadn't brought anything with me except my briefcase and it was too light. I begin to panic as I feel her body sliding out from underneath mine. I pick up the nearest thing: a gritty rock of considerable size.

As soon as I remove my hand from her mouth, the volume of the screams doubles. I bring the rock down across the side of her head. Over and over again, I bring the heavy object against the woman's face until at last she stops struggling. Blood soaks my shirt, covers my hands, and the tangy aroma is overwhelming. Like a wall, the smell hits me, the undeniable scent of death.

I stand, my body shaking, and I run. I run until my lungs hurt and feel as they will erupt from the pressure. I run until I am at my doorstep, my heart battling to break free from my chest. I feel light headed and delirious. Sinking down into the chair I stare at my blood stained hands, the coppery smell filling my head with dizzy dreams. As I slip from the chair, I sink to my knees, exhausted and confused. I have committed murder.


	5. E is for Early

E is for Early

~*~

The knock at his door was quick and sharp, the tell-tale knock of an impatient, spoiled aristocrat who was not used to waiting. Severus sighed, not even bothering to look up from the potions journal he was perusing.

"Come in Draco. Close the door behind you."

The door creaked open and a startlingly white blonde head peaked around the corner.

"Are you certain you're not busy Severus?"

The dark haired professor snorted. "Would it matter if I was, Draco? Come in if you must…you will anyways. I do have a detention to supervise in an hour however."

Draco wrinkled his nose and pouted deeply. He slid through the door, closing it with a flick of his wand.

"Well now…that doesn't give me much time at all…must you insist on being a vicious bastard _every_ day?"

Severus raised an eyebrow slowly, flicking his gaze down over the lean young body displayed in front of him. He sighed and shook his head, marking his place in the journal and pushing it away. Smirking softly, he purred silkily. "And just what is it that you wished to see me for Draco?"

The young Malfoy heir rolled his eyes at the obviously avoided question and traced the fingers over the hem of his robe silently for a moment before raising his gaze back to the older man and smirking dangerously. "Oh...I think you know what I'm here for Severus…the same thing I'm _always_ here for," he drawled slowly, all the while unbuttoning his robes casually.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the front of the young man's robes, Severus licked his bottom lip slowly, sucking it into his mouth and frowned deeply. "Draco…I have only an hour…I hardly think that's enough time to do this right now…"

"Oh, come on Severus. Where's your sense of adventure?" The blonde grinned cheekily and let his robes fall off his shoulders, shrugging them off with casual grace. "I imagine we could get _plenty_ done in less time than you think. For example…you can begin by taking off those constricting robes…they do tend to make it difficult to do _anything_."

"Did it ever occur to you, Draco, that perhaps that is the _point_ of these robes?" The professor glared at his grown charge with mock anger, sliding his own deft fingers down and removing his robes smoothly. "Not everyone has time to simply de-robe and _play_ as the mood suits them. Some of us have _work_ that needs to be finished." By the end of his little lecture, despite his words, Severus was seated behind his desk with his robes off, leaving only a pair of dark grey trousers and a silky black button up shirt covering his thin, pale body. He kept his dark eyes moving greedily over the other man as he loosened the top buttons of his own soft green shirt before slinking forward slowly.

The younger man sank into his old professor's lap slowly, sliding his arms around the pale neck and pulling himself closer to plant a soft, caste kiss on the thin lips. "Are you finished complaining yet Severus?" he whispered teasingly, nibbling at the soft bottom lip gently. "I do believe I received enough lectures when I was in potions class…and I'm hardly in the mood for such games with so little time left to us before I must be off…" He kissed the lips again, sliding a hand down Severus' chest slowly, stopping at the slight bulge in the front of his trousers. He cupped it gently as if to exhibit his point.

Severus groaned softly and shook his head slowly, tilting his head down slightly to return the kiss. "You are…an impossible, stubborn child Draco," he murmured huskily, rolling his hips up smoothly as the young man rubbed and teased him further.

Draco grinned devilishly against his old professor's thin lips and shook his head slightly, deftly tugging down the zipper and undoing the button on the grey pants. He slid his hand inside, pulling Severus' long, thick member out into the chill dungeon air. "Hardly a child any longer..._Professor," _he whispered, placing a kiss on his lover's neck before sliding down the lean body to rest between his legs.

Severus opened his eyes slowly, staring down at the blonde hungrily, watching as he leaned forward and wrapped his mouth around the head of the swollen cock. The youth suckled slowly, lapping at the drops of precum already beading on the slick head. He slid a hand up slowly, cupping the base of the cock gently before pressing forward, taking the length inch by inch into his mouth and sucking harder. Strands of dark, clumped hair fell into dark eyes as the potions professor tilted his head back slowly, leaning heavily into his chair and thrusting forward with a deep moan.

Shifting his hold from the velvet base of Severus' cock to a lightly gripped hip, Draco continued sucking hard and fast, running his tongue skillfully up and down the length of the thick shaft. He smirked triumphantly at the moans and curses emanating from the other man and growing progressively louder in volume as he approached orgasm.

"Y..Yesboy-Draco!! I hardly think you need a wand with a magical tongue like that!" the normally surly professor moaned, thrusting his hips up suddenly and violently as he came, spurting quickly into his lover's eager mouth. Draco swallowed happily, lapping at the thick cock and cleaning every last drop of the tangy seed from its velvet length, neither of them coherent enough to hear the door creak open behind them until someone screamed.

A door slammed.

Draco pulled back with a sudden pop and blinked gently at the door, staring at it with sparkling grey eyes. He ran a hand through his white-blonde hair slowly and grinned cockily, pulling on his fine robes and smoothing them slowly.

"Well Severus…I think it would be safe to say that for once…a student was early to one of your detentions."


	6. F is for Flirt

F is for Flirt

oOoOoOo

Sirius was a flirt, this much was true, and this much everyone knew. If it walked and talked, Sirius was there, trying to put his _smooth_ moves on the thing. On second thought, Sirius preferred them if they didn't talk. You see, Sirius wasn't much of a listener and he wasn't much of a talker. He was more of a "Do now, think later" kind of guy. So it came as no surprise to anyone when Sirius would stumble into the Gryffindor common room, clothes askew. Or he'd stagger into the Great Hall sporting a bloody nose and a black eye. No, Sirius did not think when it came to sex, he simply acted on impulse.

He could feel it every time he walked by, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering about. He tried desperately to bury his nose in the book sitting in his lap but Sirius had a way of demanding everyone's attention. Faking a sigh, Remus snapped the book shut. "What?"

A wide grin responded to his question and while Sirius tossed his hair back, Remus stole a glance at the older boy's curves. "I was just thinking the other day," he began, "We've never _really_ seen the inside of the first floor broom closet."

He knew this day would come, although the feeling was somewhere deep, way deep, inside of him. But yes, he knew that moment he met Sirius that he was trouble. Of course Remus had believed all the stories of drunken sex and mindless hand jobs, but he never truly believed that Sirius, his own best friend, would lay the moves on him.

"Uh huh.." Remus spoke hesitantly.

"So I was thinking maybe we should check it out." His reasoning fell a little flat.

"Uh huh.." Remus said again quietly. "No, I don't think so." He snapped his book shut and pulled himself out of the warm, comfortable chair. He wasn't about to become another one of Sirius' notches.

Sirius' smile fell a little from his face and he let out an undignified whimper. "But Remmy..." He whined all too familiarly, "I really _do_ want to know what the inside looks like!" He held up a finger, cutting Remus off from interrupting him. "And before you say it: I'm too afraid to do it alone."

"Oh for the love of.. Sirius, it's a broom closet, not the bloody Forbidden Forest." Remus was already halfway out the door when he heard a choked sob. Curling his fingers into the spine of his book, he turned, instantly regretting it.

"Rem.. We never do anything together anymore."

Dark, almost black eyes stared into burning amber. A small sigh slipped from Remus' lips.

"Just one peek alright?"

And so Remus found himself following the bouncing boy down the stairs to the first floor. They, or rather Sirius, could hardly contain his excitement as they reached the broom closet.

"This is it." Remus said in a rather bored voice.

"This is it." The other agreed, his eagerness starting to bubble over.

They must have stood in front of the broom closet for at least five minutes, just looking at the large wooden door. Finally, reaching out with a slightly shaky hand Remus pulled the door open.

Brooms.

Brooms littered the floor, a mop or two hung on the wall, and a few rats scurried out. It was just a simple ordinary broom closet.

"Let's get a closer look," Sirius practically demanded. The two boys managed to somehow squeeze into the small unforgiving space. The door swung shut behind them casting them in darkness.

Remus shifted uncomfortably, trying to pry Sirius' elbow from his gut. "Are you satisfied?"

Sirius breath was hot on the back of his neck and he let out a breathy sigh. "Yeah." His voice was laced with a husky undertone and it sent shivers up Remus' spine. Involuntarily he whimpered, giving Sirius the push he needed.

Snaking his arms around the smaller boy's body, he let his hands rest gently on his hips. "Remus.." Those damn hands were rubbing his hips, causing him to whimper and move with the rhythm.

"Sirius." Remus was right not to trust his voice and he cringed.

"Mmm.." A skilled tongue traced its way along the shell of Remus' ear, reducing him to a puddle. "Do you know how long I've dreamed about you? About this?" Sirius slid his hand to the front of Remus' pants, rubbing the growing bulge tentatively.

He was a mess, a complete and utter mess and he tried desperately to keep his wits about him. His hips were betraying him and he found himself rocking forward into Sirius' hand. "S...Stop teasing!" He spat.

A soft chuckle tickled his skin, sending it ablaze. Sirius didn't need to be asked twice and he quickly let Remus' pants, along with his boxers, fall to a pool at his feet. Wrapping a hand around the throbbing flesh he began to stroke. Noisy moans and groans filled the echoing space as Remus' hips bucked and jerked, begging for release. The owner of the hand was far too skilled at this and Remus was not used to such euphoria.

He found it hard to believe those loud moans, grunts, and undeniable sounds of pleasure were spilling messily from his mouth. His body jerked and he withered as Sirius' hand continued to stroke his aching member. Each teasing stroke brought on a new wave of pleasure and all too quickly Remus was letting go. Hot cum filled Sirius' hand, leaving it sticky. The hand stilled, leaving a very happy and very tired Remus at its mercy.

"See," Sirius said quietly, "How nice it feels to be pampered once in awhile?" Remus could only nod.


	7. G is for Gamble

G is for Gamble

-&-

"Read 'em and weep!" He slammed the hand of cards down onto the table. A royal flush, his fifth that night. The rest of the players groaned and folded. Smirking triumphantly, he pulled the assorted goods towards him. Chocolate frog cards, licorice wands, a picture of James' mum, real leather Quidditch gloves, the loot was good.

"I've had enough for one night." Remus tossed his cards onto the pile and picked up his small treasures. "And I suggest all of you turn it as well." Remus wasn't one for cards usually, but the full moon had passed recently and he was feeling grateful towards his friends. His bets had been small, a free grammar check on the next essay or a piece or two of his chocolate.

The other boys were going all out and Sirius had managed to rack in most of the prizes. But it was getting late now and Remus made his way towards the warm bed waiting for him. Peter had managed to take home a whole lot of nothing and followed behind Remus, a permanent scowl on his face.

Soon the common room was empty save for one troublesome pair. James leaned back in his seat and eyed Sirius' pile with jealousy.

"You want them back?" Sirius asked nonchalantly.

James snorted and pushed away from the table. "You wouldn't give them to me even if I did."

Producing a ruck-sack from thin air, Sirius stashed his winnings into it and waved it in front of James face. "I'll make you a bet. You win, the lot is yours. You lose, and I get more pictures of your mum."

The disgusted look on James face said it all but a flicker of curiousness passed in his eyes. "What's the bet?" James was a brave man of sorts. He could score any shot in Quidditch on a cloudy day, he could sneak past professors well past curfew, but Sirius' bets were always a line no one was willing to cross.

Sirius looked deep in thought before a gentle smirk came to his lips. "I bet you can't get Remus to sleep with you."

Remus, oh their dear friend Remus. The quiet unnerved type summed him all up. He was untouchable, sacred, almost holy. Remus was a territory you just did not trespass on.

The look on Sirius' face was serious and James knew he meant business. James shifted uncomfortably, mulling the idea over. Within Sirius' loot was James prize Quidditch gloves. He thought he had that hand but when Sirius once again upped them all, the gloves were out of his grasp.

"Deal."

James knew he was taking a gamble as he climbed the stairs to their dormitory. There was the slim chance that Remus would hex him into the next generation.

When he reached the room, Remus' bed curtains were pulled tightly shut. The stone floor was cold against his bare feet as he silently made his way towards him. Pulling his wand from his robes he murmured a silencing charm and quickly disappeared behind the curtains.

Remus lay, breathing shallowly. He was not yet asleep, but not quite awake. As soon as the weight on the bed went down Remus' eyes snapped open. He shifted over, giving room to James. "You scared me."

James smiled gently and leaned over the boy, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. "Sorry to wake you love," he murmured quietly before sliding down to lay beside him.

Remus smiled into the kiss and snaked his arms around his lover. Letting a contented sigh slip from his lips, he pressed his face against James chest. "You haven't told Sirius about us have you?" He asked after a moment's silence.

Kissing the top of Remus' head, James shook his. Rough hands slipped under the blankets and found their place on the sandy haired boy's hips. Pulling him closer, James pressed their hips together and tilted his head down to kiss Remus once more. "He's clueless."

He kissed back for a moment before pulling away. "I missed you..." Remus sounded nervous. He was not used to showing his affections openly, especially not to someone he cared deeply about.

Soft fingers stroked the scarred skin and James leaned in to kiss Remus' neck. A choked whimper slipped through Remus' lips and he squirmed gently, trying to rock into James.

"J...James..." the moan was half whisper and it sent shivers up James' spine.

Busy hands made quick work of Remus' pajama pants and they pooled at his ankles.

"Right now?" Remus gasped as a hand wrapped around his semi-hard cock. "W...What if the others hear?" His questions went unanswered as the warm mouth of James Potter covered his quivering member.

Remus bucked his hips and a vulgar word slipped from his lips. No one except James knew that Remus had a dirty mouth in bed. Noisy moans tumbled from his mouth and he dug his fingers into James scalp.

"S..Such a whore P..Potter!" He tilted his head back and moaned louder as the boy's talented tongue stroked his aching dick. James could feel it throbbing and pulsing inside his mouth and he braced himself, taking him deeper inside.

"A..Ah! You are such a slut James Potter! T..take my dick inside your mouth and s..suck me harder!!" James was never more grateful for silencing charms then he was now.

He continued his teasing actions, stroking the pulsing veins and rubbing his tongue over the boys slit, tasting the salty tang of his pre-cum. He knew Remus was close by the way his talking became filthier as he bucked and moaned. Whore. Slut. Cock-sucker. Those were only a few of the pretty names Remus enjoyed calling him while being pleasured.

He couldn't help but laugh at his lover, their friend. If the others only knew that their Remus, their quiet, often times shy Remus had a mouth that would put Sirius to shame.

Sliding his hands onto Remus' hips, James held him in place and continued his assault on his dick until the hot sticky cum was pouring into his mouth. He swallowed every last drop and slowly pulled off the limp flesh. Staring down at Remus' flushed, embarrassed face, he placed a soft kiss on Remus' lips before curling up beside him.

It didn't take long for Remus to fall asleep and James quietly slipped from the bed while lifting the charm.

"Read 'em and weep."

~fin~


	8. H is for Harry

H is for Harry

~*~

The slamming of the front door sent both men flying away from each other and scrambling to straighten up their rumpled clothes and sex-mussed hair. They had both been waiting with anticipation for just that sound, ears strained for an early warning, but all the same both had been caught by surprise.

"James! Are you home dear? I thought I saw your cloak on the stand…"

The taller of the two stood up first, trying in vain to flatten his perpetually messy hair. "Knew she'd be home soon…bloody idiots we are." He turned to glare at the sheepishly grinning curly haired young man at his feet. "This is the last time I let you cut it this close."

His companion rolled his eyes and jumped to his feet, arranging his hair neatly on his shoulders and smoothing his robes. "You know you loved it Jamie. Calm down…let's go greet Lily." Flashing a grin at James, he swept from the room and trotted into the entryway. "Lily darling!"

"James I-oh…hello Sirius. I didn't realize you were here." The red head smiled serenely and stepped around him carefully to kiss her husband's cheek. "I've just come from St. Mungo's James…the test results are in!"

"Results? What results?" Sirius flicked his eyes between the married pair, a sinking feeling starting in his stomach.

"Shut up Sirius. What kind of results do you think it would be?" James snapped, suddenly agitated. "Well? Are you..?"

Lily bit her lip hard for a moment and stared into her husband's eyes before bursting with the news. "Yes! I'm pregnant James! We're going to have a baby!"

~*~

Sirius shifted and crossed his arms again, fighting to find a comfortable position on the garden wall. Shaking a strand of curly dark hair out of his eyes, he resumed his glaring at the moon and clenched his teeth. "A baby James. A bloody baby…you know what this is going to mean for us right?"

"Mean for us? You mean in terms of time together alone?" James tilted his head up to stare at his friend. "I'll still have time to meet with you…to do things with you…one little baby isn't going to change the world. Besides…Lily will do most stuff anyways...in the first years at least. She's crazy about kids…and well, I can't exactly breast-feed." He grinned sheepishly.

"Lily won't do everything. Sure, it will start out with her having most of the responsibility since she bloody has to feed the thing…but what about when he grows up James? What about when the kid starts walking? You want your kid walking in on us fucking?" Sirius bared his teeth and snarled, shaking his head quickly. "You just watch. In two years you'll have forgotten all about me and what we did...and even if you haven't' forgotten, you just won't have time to continue it."

"You're serious? Well...that's a stupid question I suppose, of course you're Sirius…but that's beside the point! I'm not going to just run off and forget you now that I'm having a kid. I still love you Sir…and I love what we do..."

Sirius shook his head and shifted away from the searching hand that appeared on the stone wall next to his thigh. "You'll see James. Just wait."

~*~

Upon entering the house, screams were the first thing to assail his senses. Next came the smell of dirty diapers and baby powder, before a very flustered James appeared in Sirius' view.

"Oh…you're here already. Look…Lily had to run out to see her mother…some sort of emergency something. Can you take Harry for a moment?" James stumbled forward, shoving the crying infant into his best friend's arms before Sirius had a chance to respond. "Thanks…be right back, it's impossible to start a bottle while he's screaming and squirming like that."

Sirius blinked down at the baby in his arms and the empty place where James had just been. This was not the afternoon they had planned on. Both Harry and Lily were supposed to be gone to visit her mother, not just Lily. Having Harry here made things…inconvenient.

"Look, you seem pretty busy James…maybe I should just come back later? I mean, our plans obviously aren't going to work with Harry here." Sirius shifted in place, bouncing the squalling baby on his hip despite his stormy thoughts about the child. James came back into the room a moment later, shoving a bottle into his friends hand and frowning at him.

"Just because we can't have s-e-x doesn't mean you have to leave Sirius."

"S-E-X? What are you James, five? Harry doesn't know what you're saying yet...he's barely old enough to recognize his name, let alone words like that."

"That's not what Lily says. Lily says Harry's gonna start picking words up instantly…he's about at the age where some kids start talking, even reading!"

"I don't know what book Lily's reading James, but she's insane. Harry's 6 months old! You'll be lucky if he talks on time what with your genes affecting him. You can barely form a complete sentence right now and you're in your thirties." Sirius smirked and shifted the baby in his arms, tilting the bottle up more.

James sighed and held up his hands slowly. "No reason to insult the kid…not his fault his dad's an idiot." He grinned softly and shrugged. "I still don't want that language around Harry, Sirius. Lily's right…you can be awful sometimes."

Sirius blinked and stared. "Awful? One tiny spelled out naughty word and I'm awful? Merlin James…you know what's awful? I've gone four months without sex because you won't give me the time of day enough to FUCK ME!" The last word came out as a shout. By the time he had finished his small rant, both Harry and James were staring at him with similar shocked, wide eyed expressions on their faces. Sirius stood, breathing heavily and staring at his once lover, swallowing convulsively. "Shi-Shoot I'm sorry Jamie…"

The other man didn't even look at him. He walked over to the curly haired man slowly, reaching into his arms and taking his son. "You were right Sirius. Perhaps you should come back later. Lily will be home soon anyways, I'm sure."

~*~

Months passed. The Potter house became a place full of screaming babies and dangerous, whirring toys. The guestroom in which James and Sirius once had wild, passionate sex slowly transformed into a playroom filled with toy brooms, blocks, animated stuffed animals, and other discarded and well loved trinkets and toys. As Harry grew older, Sirius appeared around the house of Lily and James Potter less and less frequently, despite swearing to be a devoted godfather. When he did visit, he and James were coldly polite, neither quite getting over what had happened that day some months ago…and neither quite remembering what the fight had been about in the first place.

Four months without sleeping with his beloved James became six, then eight, and finally, a year.

~*~

The date was October 31, 1981. The house lay in splintered heaps in front of him, most pieces unidentifiable. Sirius wasn't sure he wanted to identify the pieces, even if he could. Either way, the house wasn't what was important. The bodies that lay inside were.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius plunged forward into the mess and picked through a few fallen pieces, passing right by Lily's silent body in search of James…his true goal. Finally finding the cold, still body partially hidden under a blasted piece of wreckage, Sirius sank to his knees, not caring how scraped up he got. He pushed the broken wood away, reaching up to adjust his long time friend's glasses and push the hair out of his eyes.

Fighting back tears, Sirius whispered, "I'm sorry I wasn't better to you these last few months Jamie…I'm sorry I stopped giving you chances…and I'm sorry I didn't accept the offer to become the keeper of the most treasured of secrets. Peter isn't the only one guilty of betrayal tonight…but he'll pay the price." He placed a kiss on the cool lips and stood, staring down at the face he so loved one last time, committing it to memory. It was unlikely he would be seeing much of anything soon. He left, silent and unaware that hidden in the wreckage lay a small boy of one year old, his godson…the boy who lived.

~*~

Sirius laughed when he reached freedom and had the chance to change back into his human form. He was dirty: matted and caked with thirteen odd years of dirt that was left after the inadequate "baths" the Azkaban inmates were subjected to. His hair hung limp and long in snarled pieces down his back, and his body was covered with bruises and scars, barely hidden by the ratty striped rags the Azkaban guards considered a prison uniform. Dirt was nothing compared to sweet freedom…to the scent of fresh air and the sound of birds in the trees and the opportunity to _feel_ for the first time in thirteen years. Dirt was small, insignificant, and as such, Sirius was overwhelmed. So he threw back his head and laughed: a sharp, barking, hysterical sound that soon mingled with a sob.

~*~

James Potter stood in front of him. It had to be him, he knew it. The boy was younger than James had been when he died, obviously, but all the same…it had to be James. He had his hair, his lips, his nose, his height. The mannerism was the same even. The only difference…and this was one which Sirius had noted immediately and chose to ignore…were the eyes. The brilliant, enticing green eyes that had so bewitched James once many years ago were staring back at Sirius from behind round spectacles and a face that was just like James. Sirius was in hell…he had to be.

Sirius cursed himself and forced himself onward with the story of Peter Pettigrew, trying without success to ignore the attraction growing in his stomach towards his thirteen year old godson.

~*~

With a soft grunt, the young man slid out of Sirius' slick hole, waving his hand and releasing the spells that had bound the man's hands together and to the bedpost. He rolled onto his side and smirked triumphantly at his godfather, licking his lips. "I still can't believe you chose me Sirius…I'm _boring_. Nineteen years old and still unsure of where I'm going. At least Remus has fulfilled goals…and he's closer to your age."

Sirius turned his head and smiled gently. "Yes…but Jam-Harry…that's what I like about you. You're young, spontaneous, and beautiful. I'm happy with you."

The other man stared at him for a moment before nodding slowly and sliding out of bed, tousling his dark, messy hair on the way to the bathroom. Sirius watched his young lover for a moment before turning away slowly to stare at the picture on the nightstand. He waved a finger, and the arrogant, messy haired man waved back.

Smiling slightly, he whispered, "I'll always love you James…"


End file.
